


The Day Spa

by ares_night



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4174707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ares_night/pseuds/ares_night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sera has been enjoying her time in Toronto as a masseuse for the Valhalla Day Spa. Her life was pretty boring and ordinary until a major motion picture arrived in town to film for a few months. How would she handle the high profile clients that sought out her services? What would happen to her ordinary life once she let a little Hollywood in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if I'll continue this or not, but I just couldn't get this story out of my head since Tom shot CP in Canada. This is my very first fanfic and first piece of writing I've done in years! I'm very excited but nervous posting it. Please be gentle :)

Groggily, I lifted my head and peered at the digital clock through the haze of hair on my face. Ugh, 6:30am and the piercing sound of my ring tone was boring through my brain. Reaching my hand over to my nightstand, I felt around for my phone. _Jeeze, where was that stupid thing?_ My arms flailed and flopped over the surface of the smooth wood in search of the wailing device. Finally finding it, I fumbled it around in my hand before bringing it to my face. On the screen, blazing in the dim light was the name of my employer. _What could they possible want at this hour?_ I attempted to clear the roughness in my throat before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey, Sera!” The irritatingly cheery voice of my manager blared through the speaker. 

“Do you have ANY idea what time it is?” I gritted my teeth in annoyance. My patience over the irritating person currently causing the unnecessary disturbance in my sleep, was dangerously wearing thin.

“Oh, no! Did I wake you? I’m so sorry,” she chirped in my ear. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could be as perky as her this early in the morning. 

“Monique, this better be good. It’s my day off and…”

“Oh, it is!” She cut me off. “We really could use your help and expertise...” she clattered before I proceeded to cut her off.

“I’m hanging up now,” I almost growled. 

“NO! Hang on a second. You haven’t heard me out,” she whined. I let out a gust of air through my nose in annoyance. 

“Fine. You have 2 minutes,” I grumbled.

In a flurry, Monique began to speed-talk her way through the remainder of her request. “So, we got a call late last night about a VIP coming in today. Apparently there is a movie shooting in town and one of the actors is looking to come in for our services. Jordan was going to take the request…”

 _Mm. Of course, Jordan would be the first to take the request_ , I thought to myself as I simultaneously rolled my eyes. Let’s just say our clients didn’t usually forget Jordan. 

“… but this person specifically ASKED for YOU!” Monique finally spit out with a whoosh. _Wait… what? Who would’ve asked for me?_

“What? Is it a previous client of mine?” I echoed my thoughts out loud. I’ve had some VIP clients in the past, and I began to flit through my memory in an attempt to discern the possibilities. A few of them were in the entertainment industry, but I couldn’t think of any of them in Toronto for a film right now. Curious.

“No. I don’t think so. I honestly don’t know who it is, but apparently they were referred here and to you,” Monique stated. I guess I should have been intrigued at that bit of news. I probably would have been if this were shared at a different time. But at that moment, it was early and I was exhausted. The only interest I had at that particular time was going back to sleep and forgetting this interruption ever happened.

“Didn’t you tell them it was my day off, Mon? Can’t they come in tomorrow or something?” I half sighed, half whined. 

“Hon, it was the first thing I said. But apparently this is the only day they can come in, what with their shooting schedule and all…” she prattled. It became obvious then that my intentions of returning to a fitful slumber were shattered to smithereens. 

“Fiiine!” I huffed. “I’ll come in. What time do I need to be there?”

“10am! You are the greatest…” she started to say. I didn’t stay on long enough to hear the rest, however.

“You owe me,” I bit out and ended the call on my phone. I turned over on my back and stared at the ceiling. This was supposed to be the first day off I had in weeks. The annoyance and disappointment radiated from my entire being. _Ugh! Who the hell IS this person?_ Sighing and without another thought, I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and into the shower.

_____________________

I stepped out into the cool, crisp, winter air and began my walk to the bus stop. I had a car, but figured the fresh air and exercise would do me some good. Luckily, I timed the exit from my apartment just right, as I arrived at the stop at the same time as the bus. Boarding the bus rather mechanically, I found a seat near the back. It was relatively empty and I was able to place my bag on the seat next to me. Lost in my thoughts, I stared out the window listening to the low melodies being piped through my ear buds. I really hoped this day would progress rapidly. I was genuinely looking forward to the day off before those plans became moot.

I’ve worked at the Valhalla Day Spa in Toronto for the past 3 years. Not really sure with what I wanted to do after college, I decided to work at my local day spa back home in upstate New York. It was all fine, dandy, and just plain ordinary. Until the humdrum of every day life and some other personal sagas got to be too much, and convinced me to move as far away from there as possible. I could fill up an entire library of text reminiscing about that horrendous time in my life. But I typically didn’t bother and I wouldn’t now. My history before Toronto was in the past where it belonged.

Why Toronto, I recalled many people asking me? It just so happened that I was always fond of the area; well at least since college. We would take mini weekend trips to Toronto back then, as it was a reasonable drive. More importantly, the drinking and gambling age was much lower there, at 19 compared to 21 in the States. Yes, our priorities were clearly defined in college. _Ha!_ Besides, I really liked it up there, so when I was looking to relocate, Toronto became an easy choice. Once I made the decision to move, it was not a difficult transition. Just packed up what little possessions I had and made the move to good ol’ Canada over a weekend. Family and friends be damned. 

The bus decelerated suddenly enough that I lurched forward, snapped out of my daydream. I realized then that I had arrived at my stop. The spa was located right in the heart of the city, which was something I absolutely loved. I rose and made my way to the front to disembark. I felt the cold air assault my lungs immediately and even through the initial burn, it was refreshing. The tall buildings glinted in the sunlight as I ambled across the sidewalk toward my destination. I walked through the revolving doors of the shiny, silver building, breezed by the registration desk and waved to Charlie, the security guard. I sprinted and barely made the elevator, but before the doors could close, a kind samaritan held it open for me. Relieved, I pressed the button for my floor and stepped back to lean against the wall, giving the stranger a warm smile in thanks.

Once we reached my floor, I exited swiftly. With a huff, I opened the left side of the frosted-glass double doors and immediately got bombarded by Samson. “Gurrrrl, I hear you are working our VIP Quarters today,” he quipped sardonically with a snap of his fingers and telling smirk.

“Bite me, Samson,” I all but snarled.

I ignored his chuckle and proceeded to the back staff area. Headed toward the locker rooms, I neared Monique’s office. Hoping to avoid detection, I hurried past only to hear my name being shouted behind the half-opened door. Rolling my eyes dramatically, I turned and dragged myself toward her desk. “Yes, Monique?” I said petulantly with my arms folded across my chest. 

“Sera, I got a call a little while ago and confirmed your VIP’s appointment. I’ve had Samson prepare the VIP Quarters for you so everything for the session should be there already. I’ve also cleared out the appointments in the back rooms for the remainder of the morning, so that our guest has complete privacy,” Monique finished by looking up from the stack of papers on her desk.

“Wow. OK,” I breathed. 

My thoughts wandered back to pondering who this person truly was. I hadn’t really thought too much about it until just then. It had to be someone within the realm of fame that I, and perhaps even the spa, had never experienced before. We usually didn’t go through this much trouble even for our most prestigious VIPs. 

“Mon…” I started, but got interrupted.

“Before you ask, I still have no idea,” she remarked while holding up her hand. She paused briefly only to begin again. “But, I DO know that Guillermo Del Toro movie is filming here right now. And… it’s got an all-star cast,” she finished with a wink.

At that moment my heart stopped. I must’ve looked like a bewildered fish right then with my eyes bugging out of my head and puckered lips opening and closing in rapid succession. I shook my head and finally regained some brain function before blurting out the first random thought that came to mind. “OK, so you said everything is already set up in the room?” I blinked.

“Sera. You’re not even going to try to figure out who it is?” She looked at me in awe.

I deliberated internally for a second before responding. “Honestly? What difference does it make? It will only freak me out. And then, what if my guess is wrong and I freaked myself out for nothing? It’s better if I pretend this is just a normal client and focus on getting in the zone.” I looked at Monique in earnest trying to convince her of the truth in my statement, but subconsciously I knew it was more to convince myself. 

Not really wanting to spend any more time in that office or with that train of thought, I whirled around and swiftly walked away. “Thanks, Mon. I’ll see you later.” I shouted back over my shoulder as I headed toward the VIP Quarters. This day was already turning out much stranger than I had anticipated. If I was going to make it through this work shift at all, I needed to throw myself into mindless tasks and quickly, before I became overcome with anxiety.

The entire back half of the floor we occupied in the building housed the VIP Quarters, an area completely cut off from the rest of the establishment. The VIP Quarters at Valhalla Spa had its own massage room, locker room, showers and sauna. The VIP massage room was the biggest and most luxurious room in the entire spa. We reserved it strictly for special clients and hardly ever used it regularly. 

As I reached the massage room, I noticed the door had been left open. I walked in and turned on the light. It had been quite some time since I had been back there. We hadn’t had a VIP client that I massaged at least, in a long while. The room was filled with lush plants and flowers, which gave it a tranquil feel. The walls were painted in a neutral color and mostly bare, save for a couple Eastern inspired paintings and sculptures scattered about. In the corner by the entrance, sat a massive Buddha statue on a rock formation, surrounded by a pool of water. A waterfall cascaded down the statue, over the rocks and into the pool creating a calming atmosphere. 

By far the best thing about the room, however, was the floor to ceiling windows on the back wall. The windows had a tinted, privacy glass that provided the perfect amount of dim lighting while preventing prying eyes looking in from the outside. The view was remarkable and always blew our clients away when they first walked in.

I glanced where the supply cart sat in the corner and saw it full of my supplies. In the middle of the room, I noticed all of my linens had been freshly arranged on the large bed/table and the sheets turned down on the one side. I had to remember to thank Samson later. He truly cut my work down in half. 

Lying on top of the cart was the reservation questionnaire sheet, and I picked it up before I could stop myself. Looking it over, I saw the general information about the appointment.

_90 minute deep tissue massage and hot stone therapy  
Male subject, early to mid-30s, no known allergies or skin sensitivities_

_Well, that certainly didn’t narrow it down_ , I thought to myself. This immediately sparked the memory of what Monique mentioned earlier regarding the Del Toro movie filming here. When I first heard about it a few months ago, I had lost my mind. Two of the most amazing male actors were going to be in the vicinity! I absolutely loved Charlie Hunnam in Pacific Rim, such a great actor and very easy on the eyes. 

The other person I couldn’t even think about without getting flushed all over from excitement. Tom Hiddleston. What could I say about him that millions of other people the world over didn’t already say? He’s absolutely gorgeous, inside and out and was spectacularly talented. I’d been following his career pretty closely since Thor, when I first discovered his existence. I was essentially a pretty big fan of his as it were.

So, when I had heard these amazing actors would be shooting in Toronto, naturally, I mildly freaked out. Well, maybe mildly was putting it… well, mildly. My friends thought my head would explode from exhilaration. I was convinced I would go on set and try to get an autograph or perhaps even a picture with them. I mean, why not? They were going to be right here! But when the time came, I was too afraid and psyched myself out. I figured keeping these idols of mine in my head versus meeting them in real life was probably for the best. After all, what the heck would I have even said to them? I’d probably make a giant ass out of myself. Yep, better to have stayed away and held on to some of my dignity, than to have gone and acted a fool.

A gentle knock roused me from my thoughts. “You alright, sissy?” Samson peered his head into the room. I glanced up from the sheet of paper and smiled at him.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for setting up the room for me by the way.” My smile turned into a wide grin. Samson had been one of the first people I met at Valhalla Spa, and he quickly took me under his wing. He could be a giant pain most of the time, but I couldn’t help but love the guy. He was a great and true friend.

“Oh, please. You know I’d do anything for you,” he crooned. “Plus, I know you’ll make it up to me.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“Will I now?” I teased.

“You know it, babe. So, I’m heading over to the locker room. You coming?” He nodded toward the hallway. 

I looked down at my watch and noticed the time was already 9:15. “Sure, let’s go. I need to get ready.” We linked arms and lazily made our way to toward the locker rooms.

“Sooo, how are the nerves?” Samson looked down at me with concern in his eyes.

“I’m actually… OK. I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.” I glanced up briefly.

“Why do I think that’s a lie?” He said ruefully. I absolutely hated how clairvoyant Samson could be sometimes.

“No, really. I haven’t put a lot of thought into it. I honestly can’t. I have to try to keep myself calm throughout this, Sams. I can’t psych myself out,” I replied blearily. If anyone understood my anxiety issues, it was Samson.

“Don’t worry, doll. You can do this. You’ll be fine. And if you need any assistance, just dial Sam11,” he chuckled.

“Speaking of which…” I began. We entered the locker room and separated into our respective sides. “You better not barge in like you did the last time I had a high profile client,” I yelled over the partition. All I heard in response was more chuckling. “I mean it, Samson!” I hollered loudly.

“Alright, Alright. I won’t suddenly run out of oil during my session this time!” He shouted loud enough for me to hear while laughing. Did I mention how irritating the man could be? 

I meandered over to my locker and took out my uniform. All Valhalla Spa employees were required to either wear a pair of black logoed scrubs or a black lab jacket over their regular clothes. I usually preferred the scrubs on days I didn’t know what to wear, as it was much easier, and today was no different. 

I quickly changed into the scrubs and tied up my black Nike sneakers. Grabbing my make-up bag out of my locker, I went to stand in front of large vanity in the back corner. Normally, I’d skip the make-up, but since I had some time this morning, I decided to indulge myself a bit. I put on some eyeliner and mascara, a quick dusting of blush and a light, neutral colored lip-gloss. 

I proceeded to gather my long, auburn locks into a loose bun, leaving some stray strands framing my face. I grabbed my thick-framed glasses and put them back on as I took one final scan of myself in the mirror. Pleased with my reflection, I turned around and locked the rest of my personal items in the locker and headed back to the VIP Room. 

A glance at my watch indicated it was now 15 minutes before my appointment arrived. I just needed to prepare a few things in the room beforehand, like set up supplies, turn the hot stone oven on, and light candles for ambience. Plus, more mindless work to keep my mind occupied seemed like an excellent idea at the time.

My tasks took about 15 minutes to complete when I heard the intercom lowly chime in the room. I walked over and pressed the large button to speak. “Yes?” I said into the receiver.

“Your 10 o’clock appointment is here, Ms. Sera. He is ready and waiting in the VIP Relaxation Lounge,” Cordelia our quirky receptionist chirped. “Here goes nothing,” I murmured to myself.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you, Cordy.” I almost squeaked into the intercom. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and quickly took in another deep one before letting that out very slowly as well.

“You can do this, Sera,” I said to myself, while simultaneously wishing that this client turned out to be anyone other than the two options floating through my mind earlier. I chased the thought away as fast as it came and tried to focus on my steps toward the lounge. “There isn’t anything you can do to change it now anyway,” I muttered to no one in particular. 

I finally reached the double doors to the lounge and swung them open with a flourish. 

There, sitting on the circular sofa seat in only a robe, was my 10 o’clock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feedback and comments are welcome :)  
> Without further ado...

He read the newspaper completely oblivious to my presence. My breath caught in my chest as I tried to quell the overwhelming feeling of anxiety threatening to overtake me. He released one side of the paper and reached over to the end table to pick up a mug. He slowly brought the steaming beverage to his pursed lips as he attempted to cool the liquid slightly before drinking. I stared with rapt attention as he sipped delicately and gently placed the mug back down on the small table. 

My eyes roved all over him. His imposing frame took up half of the sofa seat, and he looked absolutely delicious. Wearing only a white Valhalla Spa robe tied loosely at the waist, legs splayed wide apart. His bare chest and light spattering of chest hair were visible through the opening at the top part of the robe. While the short length of the outer garment exposed the bottom part of his legs, his giant feet were adorned in our standard Valhalla Spa white slippers. I don't know how long I stood there. It seemed I was temporarily glued to my spot ogling the masculine vision in white. _Is this really happening?_

I took a deep, cleansing breath to oxygenate my brain and prepared to make my presence known. Timidly, I stepped into the room, letting the door slowly shut behind me. As I walked over to greet him, he gradually brought his eyes up to look at me as soon as he heard the door close. His attentive gaze caused me to stop dead in my tracks, unsure of what to do. A soft smile began to grace his lips as he looked at me with a friendly expression.

Berating myself for simply standing there with what I imagined was a really dumb look on my face, I finally brought myself to speak. “Good morning, Mr. Hiddleston. I’m Sera and I’ll be your technician today,” I said tentatively, hoping I effectively suppressed the wavering in my voice.

The towering gentleman proceeded to unfold his sizeable frame to stand, grin expanding exponentially as he rose to his full height. “Hi there. Sera, is it?” He said while extending his hand for a handshake. _Wow, he was even more beautiful in person and tall. Really, REALLY tall,_ I marveled inwardly while tilting my head back in order to maintain eye contact.

I shyly reached out to shake his hand and nodded faintly in the affirmative. His touch sent an electric current through my body and I could practically feel my teeth vibrating. His long fingers dwarfed mine as they circled around my palm. “And please, call me Tom.” He said pleasantly. 

I got lost in his captivating blue eyes for what felt like an eternity, my head still craned up to see them in the dim light. Those eyes were like endless crystal blue pools, glinting in the moonlight and I was swimming, no basking, in them. I wondered what secrets those mysterious eyes held as I stared open-mouthed at him in awe. Realizing what a fool I must’ve looked like, I quickly shook my head and brought myself back into the present.

“OK, if you are ready, sir, please follow me to your room.” I said fleetingly. Without waiting for his response, I spun around and headed towards the door, opened it and looked back at him expectantly. _What was WRONG with me?_ I berated myself. I was blowing this already. Big time.

“Is it alright if I leave my tea cup here and the paper?” He asked with a questioning look on his face. 

“Oh, um. Yeah. Sure. Someone will come and clean up later,” I replied. Tom looked a little uncomfortable with that answer but nodded slightly, wiping his hands down the front of his robe while taking a few long strides in my direction.

Becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his approaching proximity, I headed out into the small hallway toward the VIP Room. I could hear Tom’s heavy footfalls behind me as we made our way to the large room. I stepped inside the door and gestured for Tom to enter. He leisurely made his way into the room, hesitantly looking around. His eyes were everywhere, taking it all in while I closed the door behind him.

“Wow, this room is amazing!” Tom said as he walked over to the glass wall. Eyeing the spectacular landscape of the city of Toronto, he remarked out loud, ”That is some view.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It is. Best room in the house. But don’t worry about the glass, it’s pretty much like a two-way mirror, no one outside can see in,” I followed up lamely. _What the hell was that, Sera? You sound like a freaking creeper. Cut the shit!_ My inner monologue chastised. 

I allowed him a moment to absorb the view. He was still at the window when I continued. “So, Mr. Hiddleston,” I started while picking up my clipboard. “I see here that you indicated no allergies or skin sensitivities on the questionnaire?”

Startled a bit by the unexpected sound of my voice, he turned momentarily to respond. “Erm, Yes. That’s correct. But, Please. Call me Tom.” He smiled. 

“OK, great, mist… er, Tom. Whenever you are ready, you can have a seat and we can discuss what your session will entail.” I said, looking up from behind the clipboard.

Tom strode over to the large massage bed and leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankle and folding his arms across his chest. With a brief nod in my direction and a large grin, he said, “Fire away.” _Oh god. He’s staring into my soul. Get it together you nitwit!_

Nervously clearing my throat, I ran through my typical spiel. “Today’s services include a deep tissue massage and hot stone therapy. You can have those performed in any order you’d like, though I recommend doing the massage first. It relaxes the muscles and gets them nice and loose for the hot stones to work their magic.” I finished while glancing in his direction after staring at the sheet on the clipboard.

“Sounds good, Sera. I’m game if you are,” his eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief. The blush that crept up from my chest to my neck and face made me feel extremely self-conscious. Just hearing my name spoken in his velvety British accent made me weak in the knees. His voice, amplified by his penetrating stare, left my brain in a figuratively goo-like state with absolutely no cognitive function whatsoever. I had to avert my gaze from his direction, not only to save myself from further embarrassment, but also to regain any semblance of brain activity.

I looked down at my feet and stumbled over my next words. “Wa-Wonderful. Um. Great. So, I’ll leave the room now for about 5 minutes to let you get ready. You can hang your robe up on the wall over there and depending on your ca-comfort level… you can leave your… undergarments on… if… if you’d…prefer,” I peeked back up at him only to see a huge shit-eating grin on his face, eyes gleaming with mirth.

Jerking my gaze back down, I continued in a rush, “Make sure you get under the covers and be in the correct position with which side you want me to work on first, facing up, when I get back.” I glanced up to see his smug smile still firmly in place, as he slightly bobbed his head in the affirmative. _Ugh! Seriously with this guy?_

Dimming the lights, I promptly exited the room, closed the door and ran in the direction of the staff locker rooms. I rushed over to the sink, planted my hands on either side and hung my head, breathing heavily. What was I doing? I needed to get my act together and fast. _God, why did it have to be HIM?_ I shook my head back and forth in disbelief. This was going to be a long session.

I lifted my head and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were still beet-red and my forehead just started to glisten with sweat. “Crap,” I muttered absently to myself. “Way to go, Sera.” I grabbed some paper towels and blotted the perspiration off my face. Wetting a couple more in the sink with cold water, I used them to pat the back of my neck in the hopes of cooling myself down. _Relax, Sera. It’s just another client. Calm down and just do your job,_ I thought to myself.

Puffing out my cheeks, expelling air out of my mouth and finally feeling calmer, I headed back toward the VIP Room. _You can do this, Sera,_ I continued my inner monologue pep talk. _It’s just an ordinary client, no one special. Just treat this like a regular session and everything will be all right._

By the time I reached the door to the VIP room, I was feeling much better. I just prayed that Tom was face down so I could work on his back first. I didn’t think I’d be able to start off with those sinful eyes trained on me. I lightly knocked on the door to let him know I would be entering, and opened it just wide enough to sneak inside.

As I neared the bed, I immediately realized my prayers were answered when I saw Tom face down under the covers. I sighed inaudibly as I gazed at the massive mop of reddish-brown curls peaking out at the very top of the sheet. Walking briskly back over the other side of the bed where my supplies were laid out, I took out the bottles of oils I would need for the first part of the session. Gathering all of the courage I could muster, I addressed the proverbial elephant in the room in the guise of a famous man.

“Mist-er… I’m sorry… Tom. Are you comfortable?” I asked. 

“Mmm. Very, Sera. Thank you,” he purred as he wriggled underneath the covers to better situate himself. I let out a silent gasp and gawked at his back. I almost lost it right then and there. I could not take an entire session of him making noises like that!

Humming lowly to test the steadiness of my voice, I started to explain the process. “I’m going to start up top by your neck and work my way down. Try to remain as relaxed as possible and be sure to let me know if I happen upon any extra tender spots, or if you need me to stop. If at any time you need me to increase pressure or lesson it, all you need to do it ask.” 

One of the first bits of training I received during my certification was to make sure the client always knew what to expect during a session, and always ascertain, and most importantly stick with, their individual comfort levels. The next question was usually an awkward one, even more so now due to the circumstance.

Nervously clearing my throat again, I attempted the dreaded question. “Before we begin, is there… is there any place you want me to focus on or… or is there… an-any place that is off limits?” I stammered. 

He shifted slightly and turned his head to the side to respond. “Not really. Whatever you want to do to me is fine,” he replied smoothly. 

_Whatever you want to do to me is fine,_ I repeated to myself. This man was going to be the death of me. I promptly focused my attentions around planning the technical process of the session, and what I needed to do next, in order to distract myself from the dangerous path my thoughts were starting to take.

At the top of the bed, I folded the sheet down to reveal the uppermost portion of his torso, so only his shoulders were exposed. I rubbed oil on my hands and reached out to touch his long, elegant neck. Taking a deep breath and holding it, I started to rub light circles up by his ears. I released the breath deliberately and started to work my hands downwards, rubbing in small circles with increasing pressure. _Wow, I was actually doing this. I was massaging Tom fucking Hiddleston._

Tom sighed as the pressure from my hands began to increase. Taking turns with each hand, I kneaded up and down the column of his neck. And what a neck it was; long and lean like the rest of him. I felt Tom’s muscles relax under my fingers and a small smile played at the corners of my mouth. I loved this part, the part where a client became completely unglued from my touch. There was nothing more satisfying in my line of work, and I took great pride in making sure my customers left feeling utterly deboned at the end of a session. Heck, I could take the stiffest, most rigid asshole of a man (or woman) and turn them into a pliant Gumby in under 30 minutes! _And that’s on a bad day,_ I mused.

I heard another puff of air get expelled from Tom’s chest in a whoosh, as I pressed firmly at the base of his neck. “How is that? Is that too much?” I asked while I continued to massage the pressure point.

“No. Oh no,” Tom rasped. “That is just… perfect.” Tom groaned.

I started to move down to the beginning of Tom’s shoulders, varying different movements and pressures along the way. Tom fidgeted a little before he began to chat. “So, Sera. That’s an interesting name,” he stated casually, trying to start up a conversation.

“Oh, mist-er, I’m sorry again. I mean, Tom. You really don’t need to talk to me during your session. I want you to be as calm and comfortable as possible. Don’t feel obligated to talk; I don’t expect you to at all. My goal here is that you are completely relaxed. Believe it or not, I’ve even had some clients fall asleep on me before!” I boasted.

Tom let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, I bet they have. Can’t blame them really. This feels heavenly." He paused a moment before continuing. “It might sound rather strange, but I’d really like to chat with you… if you don’t mind. It’s just… I’m fully immersed with work and have so much in my brain at the moment. I could use a distraction… get out of my own head for a bit.”

“Well…” I started to say, my fingers continuing their movements on his shoulders.

“Sera, may I ask you something?” Tom asked abruptly.

“Sure,” I said apprehensively.

“Do I make you nervous?” He asked, his voice even and sure, not revealing his thoughts.

“What?” I asked, almost ceasing my ministrations at the question that seemingly came out of left field.

“I asked if I made you nervous. And I think you heard me the first time,” he observed keenly.

“Um. Well…” I began to say and briefly pondered lying to him before quickly forgoing that notion. “Yeah. I guess you do.”

“Why?” He inquired, while slightly turning his head to the side.

Still rubbing and kneading his shoulders, I decided to continue my honesty streak. “I think you know why, but I also think you won’t let me get away with that kind of answer.”

Tom gave a throaty chuckle. “You would be quite right about that. And I take it this means you know who I am and what I do for a living?”

“Mr. Hiddleston, I may be a mousy masseuse from Toronto, but contrary to popular belief, I do not live under a rock!” I joked. 

Tom laughed his signature laugh. “Never thought you did, darling. Though, I am wondering now if your palms are actually made of rock.” He finished his statement with an “ooof” as I pressed extra hard on a pressure point in response.

I worked the left side of his shoulder with greater vigor, trying to grind out all of the tension and knots. Tom released some low grunts as my relentless assault on his muscles became harder and faster. Somewhere in the middle of my regime, I decided, within my subconscious it seemed, to continue speaking.

“I guess… I’m just a little star struck. I mean, it's not every day I get to be in the same room with Tom Hiddleston, let alone massage him.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think to stop them and I paused in shock. _What the hell did I just say?_

Tom lifted himself up slightly on his elbows and turned his head to look me in the eyes. He hesitated a second before giving me a brilliant and sincere smile. “Honestly, I’m just a man,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

My face burned from the heat rushing in. _He truly has no idea, does he?_ “Yup. A man who also happens to BE Tom Hiddleston.” I gave a timid and shy look in his direction, fidgeting a little in place.

He smiled an easy smile. “No, just a man. Regular, plain, ordinary man that has to put his socks on, one foot at a time just like everybody else,” he said while simultaneously wiggling his toes and feet under the sheet.

He looked at me with such a child-like and goofy expression, I couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled up. The giggle then turned into a full on laugh and before I knew it, we were both laughing pretty hard. Seemingly, a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying was lifted in that moment. This didn’t need to be so difficult. Maybe separating and detaching myself from the situation could actually work. Tom seemed to be very chill and OK with everything. I needed to learn to be as well. _Yes, this could work._

“You know. That’s just what I needed, Tom. Don’t think I can ever be intimidated by you again, you massive goofball." I laughed again. "I do believe you utterly mucked up that expression though. Isn’t it something about putting pants on, one leg at a time?” I huffed out with a chuckle while shaking my head back and forth in mock disbelief. “Now, lay back down so I can finish your other shoulder,” I said teasingly.

Tom complied and promptly lowered the top half of himself back down with a self-satisfied look on his face. He tried to settle in once again while I retrieved more oil for my hands. As I went back around the table to start working on his right side, he attempted to restart our conversation.

“So, going back to the start, before we were so rudely interrupted,” he looked back with a wink and I smiled back at him. “How did you come by your name? Is it short for something?” Tom asked curiously. 

I kneaded his collarbone a little harder. “Actually, yes. My full name is Seraphina.”

“Seraphina…” he breathed. The name fell from his lips like soft silk. I almost lost the tempo in my fingers just hearing my name vocalized in his deep, British baritone. “So, lovely,” he said just above a whisper.

Pausing my attentions for a moment, I finally replied, “Thank you.”

“Were you named after someone, or are your parents religious?” He asked indifferently. 

I stopped my massage on his shoulders to lower the sheet down to his waist. Walking over to the counter to get more oil for my hands, I responded dispassionately, my voice belying any emotion. “I wouldn’t know. My mom died when I was very young. And I don’t know anything about my dad.”

All of a sudden, the tension returned in the room, thicker than before. I probably shouldn’t have shared the depressing piece of news like that, but I just didn’t have it in me to lie about it for some reason. “Oh, wow. I’m so very sorry to hear that,” Tom said. He tried to move up to look at me again, but I stopped him with my hands.

“No, it’s alright. It was a very long time ago. I don’t mind talking about it,” I reassured him.

He nodded in understanding, and I continued the rest of the massage on his back in relative silence. I tried to assuage his fears in that question making things awkward, but it seemed the damage was already done. It was fine really. I preferred to focus on the task at hand, anyway. 

When I reached the perfectly shaped divots in his lower back, a startling thought crossed my mind. _Did he actually decide to take everything off before getting under there? Oh my god._ The temptation to reach out and lift the sheet to look underneath was too great. _I wonder if he dozed off? He’s awfully quiet. What harm could a little peek do? I’m sure if I kept massaging and lifted the sheet very slowly…_

Tom made a sudden movement that startled me from my daydream. The sheet slipped a little further downward in the process, and I noticed the top band of his black designer underwear. “Figures,” I mumbled to myself.

“What was that, darling?” Tom asked. He lifted his head and turned to look over his shoulder at me.

“Oh, nothing, sorry. Just talking to myself. Actually, we are all done with your back,” I said while lifting the sheet. “I'm going to cover you and then leave the room again for about 5-10 minutes. Feel free to take your time getting up. You don’t want to get light-headed. How are you feeling?”

“Sera, I feel incredible. So relaxed. I think I may have dozed off for a bit there toward the end. Thank you so much.” Tom said with a soft sigh.

“Don’t thank me yet, big guy. I’m no where near finished with you,” I replied smartly. “I’m going to leave you now. Remember. Slow. No sudden movements. I’ll be back in 10 minutes and it’s the same as before. But, make sure you are laying face up this time under the covers. There is fresh cucumber water in the mini fridge by the bed. Be sure to drink up. You don’t want to get dehydrated. Oh, and feel free to use the en suite if you need to.” I stated while washing the oil off of my hands.

On the way out of the room, I witnessed Tom slowly lift up on his forearms, grunting the entire way. I gazed at the swells of muscle on his arms and back as he made the dawdling trek to right himself. The oil glinted off the sinew of his upper back in the low light, a vision of ripples and valleys, a solid wall of lean muscle hidden underneath a slender facade making my heart rate pick up. _Oh please. Someone. Help me._

I swallowed thickly, hastily averted my eyes, and quietly closed the door behind me. I desperately needed some fresh air, so I decided to head over to the terrace. _How the hell was I going to finish the rest of this appointment?_

“Good fucking question, Sera.” I grumbled. _Good fucking question, indeed._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your patience! Have had a ton of real-life challenges and writing had to take a back seat unfortunately. If you are still out there - THANK YOU! 
> 
> This chapter is a pretty long one. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

The solitude of the outdoor terrace next to the reception area was exactly what I needed. The crisp breeze hit me immediately and cooled off my overheated skin. I stood there for a little while, relishing in the breathtaking view, clearing my cluttered mind and breathing in the cool, fresh air. My serenity didn’t last long, however, as I heard the figurative thorn in my side enter the space rather loudly.

“Well, well, well, I never thought I’d see princess Sera again,” he drawled sassily, pursing his lips. “What with her prince riding in and snatching her away to get married in some far off fantasy castle.” The familiar male voice said sarcastically.

“Seriously, Samson. Not now.” I admonished him irately.

“Uh, oh. What’s wrong, babe?” Samson asked with genuine concern in his voice. He placed a protective arm over my shoulder as I pressed my front against the bannister.

I let out a giant sigh. No matter how reluctant I was to admit my trepidation out loud, I knew Samson would not give up until I spilled. “Do I have to go back in there?” I mumbled in a tiny voice.

“Oh come now, cupcake. It can’t be all that bad. What happened? Is he being a creep? Do I need to go in there and teach that son of a…” his nostrils began to flare in anger.

“Samson! NO. Calm down. It’s not like that,” I huffed in frustration. “He’s… actually… pretty great. More than great. Wonderful even.” I turned around, rested my back on the railing, and looked down to study my Nikes.

“Then what is it, sissy? You’re starting to worry me.” He turned around and leaned against the railing next to me. I could feel his stare in my direction.

I threw my hands in the air in agitation. “I almost lost it in there, Sams! Not once, not twice, but like every 5 minutes! The man is perfect and beautiful and super flirty and…and…and… did I say gorgeous?”

“Well, actually you used the word beautiful…”

“SEE? I can’t even think straight! My short-term memory is shot from this man!” I yelled in exasperation. I looked up at Samson and saw the look of concern on his face, which sobered me a bit. “Seriously, I don’t know what to do.” The words tumbled out in a whoosh as I puffed out my cheeks.

“Sera babe. I know your nerves are getting to you. But you already made it through half the session. Why are you so nervous about the rest?” He rubbed my shoulder in comfort.

I meekly peered up into his big brown eyes. “If you could only be in the same room with him, you would know. The guy looks at me and I turn to mush. And NOW I have to massage him when he’s face up, staring at me. Oh my God. He’s going to be looking at me the whole time!” I said, my eyes wide with panic.

“Shh, Sera babe. Now, now. Stop getting yourself all worked up again.” Samson soothed while gathering me up in his strong arms. “I’ve known you for what? Three whole years now and I’ve never seen you this keyed up over a client before.” He stepped back, placed both arms on my shoulders, and forced me to look up at him. “I’m not sure why this particular one is making you want to leap over the ledge. But, know that I won’t let that happen. EVER.” He reassured with a warm smile. “And if somehow you DO get past this big, burly, hunk of meat standing in your way, and you jump? I will always catch you when you fall.” He said with a light chortle as he shook me back and forth gently.

I couldn’t help but giggle at that, Samson, my big burly hero indeed. His little pep talk did calm me down some I had to admit. And all too quickly, I realized it was time to head back and face the music.

“Thanks, Sams. You always know the right things to say.” I reached up and bopped him on the nose and quickly pulled away when he tried to bite my finger playfully. Shaking my head in mock annoyance, I managed a sad smile. “I have to head back now.” I sighed reluctantly.

Just as I turned to leave, it suddenly hit me that Samson did not know the identity of my massage client or he would not have let me off the hook so easily. I briefly toyed with the idea of telling him right then, but stopped myself. I really didn’t want to get worked up all over again. Especially since it was time to go back. Perhaps a night of quality Samson time was in order? I could tell him in a neutral environment after I’ve had some time to calm down. _Good idea,_ _Sera._ “Hey, what are you doing after work? Wanna grab a drink? I think I’m going to really need one… or two… or three.” I proposed matter-of-factly.

Samson looked at me strangely. “Funny you should ask. I was planning many exhilarating things this evening, like relaxing on my couch surrounded by a massive Dorito graveyard. You know, a landfill of the pieces that don’t make my mouth all over my lap? Definitely cracking open a Summer Shandy. Yum, nice and cold. Ooooh! And then I was going to watch that crazy Lifetime movie with Tori Spelling…” He rambled animatedly using his hands.

“SAMSON!” I yelled in mock exasperation. “Stop! I have to get back. I’ll text you later.” I giggled while walking back inside.

“Don’t forget what I said, babe. You’ll be fine. If it gets too much, just picture me in my paper airplane flannel jammies covered in Dorito guts.” He shouted dubiously from behind me.

A gigantic smile was plastered on my face, threatening to stay there the entire way back to the massage room. I could always count on Samson to lift my spirits, no matter the circumstance. _What would I do without him?_ I couldn’t even finish that thought, as my musings were interrupted. A client walked out of the main relaxation lounge while I passed the reception area. Unfortunately, I managed to lock eyes with Jordan through the open doorway as she conversed with someone. _Oh wow, did she have daggers for me._ The contempt in her expression meant I was correct in my earlier assumption that Jordan wanted the VIP client, or rather, _my_ VIP client today. _Heh. Tough shit, bitch._ Just the thought of Jordan massaging Tom brought a slight simmer to my veins. I resolved right then to finish the rest of my appointment with Tom no matter what, the hell with pride and trepidation.

After softly rapping on the door, I stepped into room and was immediately greeted by a pair of captivating azure eyes. He was lying face up with the sheet pulled up to his neck. A small smile that played at the corner of his lips rapidly transformed into a teeth-baring grin. “I thought you forgot about me,” Tom said while he watched me walk over to the other side of the room.

“Yeah. Well. I considered high-tailing out of here and heading to Mexico, but then I realized I didn’t have my passport on me.” I said with a small giggle. Tom must of thought it was funny too and he softly chuckled along with me. _At least he laughed_ , I thought to myself. _My dork meter must not be too high. Yet._

“Tom, are you planning on using the showers here before you leave? Or do you have some place to be immediately after your session?” I inquired casually from where I was preparing the supplies for the next half of the massage session.

“Erm. I think I will use the showers, yes. Why?” He asked while furrowing his eyebrows slightly in confusion.

I walked over to where his head was on the bed and slid my rolling stool over to sit. “Because I wanted to make sure you would be OK with me massaging your head near the hairline. So many clients have gotten more than a little annoyed at me for getting their hair all oily and greasy before an event or some other engagement afterward. So, now I just save myself the heartburn and ask upfront.”

Tom looked up at me in earnest. “Honestly, I don’t know how anyone could leave straight away to do anything after this. I’m so relaxed. I’ll probably have a hard time even standing up to get dressed!” He said enthusiastically with his hands. _This man really has no idea, does he? Just the effect he has on people. Is anyone immune to his charms?_

Shaking myself internally out of my reverie, I softly cleared my throat to speak. “Well, I can certainly tuck you in when we are done here, and you are welcome to stay the night, Mr. Hiddleston. You happen to be the only person scheduled for this room today and no one is scheduled in it tomorrow.” I teased. _Uh. What did I just say?_

Tom’s expression began to fill with mirth. “Be careful, sweet Sera. If I happen to be fast asleep by the end of this session, I may have to take you up on that,” he threw back with a wink.

 _Oh my god._ _Are we seriously flirting with each other? What the hell is happening right now?_

I stared down at him; smile slowly fading as I inwardly cursed our predicament. Why couldn’t this be a normal guy, an average Joe, someone I actually had a shot with? This innocent flirting could actually go somewhere. _Ugh!_

Steeling myself into a professional mask of indifference, I prepared to speak some business. “So, Tom. Same rules apply. I’m going to start from the top and work my way down. Let me know if anything is too much or if you need me to apply more pressure anywhere. Again, if there are any spots that are off limits, speak now or forever hold your peace.” I said easily with a smirk.

I was pretty surprised at how composed I had become. A short while ago, I was near panicked to death. But now, I was as cool as a cucumber. The easy banter we’d just had, managed to relax me to the point of Tom transforming into the run of the mill, regular client, and someone that I didn’t have to be so intimidated by. Mercifully, I began to feel more optimistic about the rest of the session.

“I’m still game, darling.” He looked up at me from where he was lying, an imperceptible nod of his head and a twinkle in his eye.

Flashing him a brilliant smile, I sat down on the stool and brought both of my hands on either side of Tom’s head. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I slowly began to rub small circles on each of his temples. His eyes fluttered closed as he let out a tiny puff of air through his mouth. I concentrated on my technique of light to more firm touches on the sides and then across Tom’s forehead. I flitted my fingers gently across his skin before settling on an area to rub, and I noticed a small scar and a tiny bump on the left side of his forehead. I lightly grazed over the spot before my curiosity got to me. “Seems like you had a close call there,” I said faintly.

“Hmmm?” He replied distractedly before clearing his throat. “Oh, that. Yes.” He sighed before beginning again. “I had a nice parting gift from a play I just wrapped up. Seems the actual blood, sweat and tears shed with each performance weren’t enough for that beloved door in the theatre. It wanted to leave a lasting mark on me. Literally.” He deadpanned as he gave a quick look up in my direction. My hands continued their movements on his head while he spoke. Letting out a tiny whisper of a laugh, he continued. “Actually, I think I scarred the poor person who had the misfortune of opening that door more! I felt really really bad afterward. I still feel terrible about it! It was a complete and utter accident.” He finished while pressing his lips in a tight line of frustration.

I hummed in pseudo agreement. “Did anyone ever tell you that you apologize entirely too much?”

Tom’s eyes widened a fraction before settling and grinning bashfully in response. “Quite often, actually,” he said in a voice slightly higher than a whisper with a quick resigned shrug of his shoulders.

I could tell my massage was starting to affect him as I smoothed out the furrow between his eyes and began reaching around to massage the back part of his neck and shoulders. He let out a few more sighs and whispered gasps as his breathing began to slow and deepen. I absolutely loved this part of my job. I reveled in it. There was something in being able to manipulate a person’s demeanor, simply through touch. It was a powerful and empowering feeling, yet humbling and sobering at the same time.

As I stretched further down to manipulate Tom's neck and shoulders, I suddenly took notice of how close my proximity was. My current position had my upper body leaning in and practically hunching over his face. The top part of his head was almost touching my chest and my eyes were level with his chin. Rubbing his clavicles a little harder, I studied the lower half of his face as my thoughts wandered. _He must have shaved this morning; there’s no hint of stubble. How many beauty marks and freckles does the man have? Oh, there’s that scar on his lip. I remembered reading about that. Rugby accident I think? I can’t believe he actually played rugby. He was quite the scrawny, skinny thing in his younger days. Don’t those crazy Brits come close to killing each other in that game?_

A shift in Tom’s head roused me from my thoughts. I looked down immediately and realized the shirt part of my scrubs was rubbing against his nose. Tom had scrunched his face and tried to turn his head to avoid the rough fabric irritatingly tickling his features. In a hurry, I sat straight up and began bumbling. “Oh! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, my hands clasping over my mouth in horror.

Tom let out a quiet chuckle. “Quite alright, darling. I actually didn’t mind until my nose began to itch. I nearly sneezed all over you just now.” He said while rubbing the end of his nose with his hand.

I managed to laugh in return to expel some nervous energy. _Fucking hell._ _I am such a gigantic idiot._ “I believe I would have deserved that, Tom. I’m so sorry. I must’ve been in the zone. I have no idea what just happened.” My cheeks began to radiate heat from the air of awkwardness that thickened the room.

He looked over and smiled at me, as I rose to stand. “Really. Sera. It’s fine,” he pacified with a tranquil sigh. Tom closed his eyes again and wriggled a bit under the covers to get comfortable.

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. _Keep it together, missy. Almost done. Now for his torso and lower half._ I stole a glance to where Tom was stretched out on the massage bed. Every inch of the six foot two, statuesque Adonis was lying there and waiting for my touch. And all that separated his practically nude form from view was a flimsy, threadbare sheet. My mouth went dry at the thought. _Fuck._

____________________________

 

The rest of the massage session went surprisingly well. I got lost in my thoughts a few more times, but thankfully it didn’t have the same physical ramifications as before. Tom’s torso and upper body were just as glorious as I had imagined, long and lean with firm yet pliable muscle. And as luck would have it, his form was just as pleasurable to touch, as it was to gaze upon. The rush to my ego was overpowering, experiencing this magnificent man turn to pulp underneath my fingertips. Half of the time I couldn’t believe my luck in getting the opportunity to be in such juxtaposition to this icon, let alone handle him in this way.

I offered him the same attentiveness I gave all of my clients, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed pleasing them all, of course. But something about Tom’s soft grunts, gasps, sighs and groans, made me feel a euphoria I’ve never felt before. This was a person I had idolized from afar for years, through my computer screen, TV and on film, and now he was here, at mercy to my ministrations. _Uh huh. I won the fucking lottery of all lotteries, kids!_

Once I completed my efforts on Tom's heavenly chest, I began working on his hands. They were such a delicious paradox, amazingly soft, with fingers so long and slender yet slightly calloused and rough in spots. Tom's hands appeared almost delicate at first glance, but in reality they were far from it. Masculine, strong, agile and capable were better descriptors for what they were. As I massaged them, I kept thinking about how amazing those hands would feel if our situations were reversed. _Oh,_ _what those long, strong fingers could do._ It was not a train of thought I could linger on, but oh, did it cross my mind for more than a minute or two.

By the time I had gotten to Tom’s thighs, I was already in a mindless groove. I worked methodically, almost mechanically on autopilot. My brain most likely short-circuited by that point, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. It was my defense mechanism kicking in, and my lifeline right then. After all, my tiny hands, dwarfed by his large muscular thighs, were working inches away from his, my idol’s, most intimate parts. Luckily and unbeknownst to me, an innate survival instinct kicked in to help carry me through the remainder of the appointment with the perfect amount of professionalism required to get the job done. As it were, my fragile consciousness could not even begin to process the subtle motions of his body, making certain… desirable… areas sway hypnotically back and forth as a result of my therapeutic and rhythmic movements. If there were a time when I needed the detachment from my body and brain, it was when I first noticed the gentle bob and twitch in his groin as I innocently groped and manipulated his thigh muscles. _Fucking hell._ I do not remember much from those precarious minutes, except maybe reciting a million silent prayers willing myself to continue without pause or any outward unprofessionalism.

When I had gotten to Tom’s feet, I was internally praising myself for getting that far. My mental celebrations were cut short, however, as I had unknowingly reached the turning point, my favorite experience from the entire session. I had inadvertently leaned over Tom rather lowly, trying to use all the leverage I could in order to press on the pressure points on his arches as firmly as possible. Strangely, I had the sudden urge to look up at his face while in the midst of my work. Lifting my head, I was greeted with the most amusing sight. Tom had his eyes open and was staring rather awestruck in my direction. Peering down at myself to try and uncover the subject of his gaze, I immediately opened my mouth in shock. Due to the position I was in, Tom could see easily down through the collar of my shirt with a direct line of sight to my ample cleavage. Adding to the scandal, my heavy exertions mid-massage were making my breasts swing back and forth fairly salaciously, cupped in their lacy cradle. As soon as Tom realized I had looked up, he quickly shut his eyes and put his head back down on the bed in a desperate attempt to avoid me catching him red-handed. _Ha! Too late!_

I tried to keep my visage neutral, but as my laughter on the inside increased, the smirk on my face grew wider and wider on the outside. I should have been offended. Perhaps, I would have been in any other situation. But whom was I kidding? Hadn’t I been doing the exact same thing to him this entire session? Hell, even before I met the man, I was trolling his half naked pictures on the web! So, I found this little bit of irony, hysterical. I just kept thinking, “busted,” in a sing song-y voice in my head as I continued with my tasks. _And she’s on the board, ladies and gents!_ _Tom = 154, Sera = 1._

I finished the lower half of Tom’s body, finally breaking my silence as I covered his legs back up. “OK, Tom. We are all done with your massage. How are you feeling?” I said in a hushed and lighthearted tone.

Tom let out a low groan. “I feel… sooo good. Wow,” he labored in between long grunts. “Please don’t tell me I have to get up now,” he mumbled stretching his arms, legs, and the rest of him languorously.

I giggled while walking toward the door. “No, you aren’t done yet. We still have your hot stone therapy to do. You’ll need to turn over again, so I’ll just leave the…”

Tom began to rise while making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Oh, please, darling. You don’t need to leave again. Here,” he said while sitting up and tossing the covers off. The muscles on his chest rippled and tightened as he moved lithely to get up.

I stared slack-jawed, gawking at him, my eyes bugging out of my head. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He was too busy shuffling his body around to notice my predicament and I finally snapped my mouth shut, my gaze still glued to his amazingly toned figure. As he twisted away from me in the other direction, I finally got a good long look at his skin-tight, black cotton boxer-briefs. They hugged the rounded curve of his ass just perfectly and didn’t leave much to the imagination. I allowed myself a brief moment to ogle his impressive bulge prominently displayed in front before he completely turned over. _Holy. Shit._

My mini drool-fest ended far too quickly with Tom finally lying on his stomach. Covers completely askew, he folded his arms at the end of the bed and turned his head to the side to rest against the long limbs. He looked at me before closing his eyes in utter contentment. “See? All good. No need to leave now,” Tom mumbled into his arm.

I couldn’t help but beam dazedly in his direction while I walked back over to my supplies. _What was I thinking before?_ _This asshole knows exactly what he’s doing!_ I smirked to myself as I turned toward the hot stone oven. “Oh, well thank you for being so considerate of me, kind sir. But I’m starting to think someone is just a little bit anxious to get their final treatment going.”

“Yes.” He said with a burst of laughter in his signature, ehehehe. “That is definitely it.”

Taking the stones out of the oven and onto the cart, I pushed all of the supplies toward him. “Alright then. I don’t want to keep the impatient man waiting,” I sniggered good-naturedly. “So, this next part is going to be really great for releasing the excess tension in the muscles. The hot stones work incredibly well with penetrating deeply into the tissue, something that is not as easily achieved through the use of just oils and hands alone.”

I placed eight flat stones in pairs on the tray in the order that I would be placing them on his back and continued. “Although the practice is fairly new in spas universally over the past 5 to 10 years, it’s actually a very old technique. Not many know that hot stone massage has, in fact, been traced all the way back to ancient Mayan times. But what is practiced today has its origins in India dating back 5000 years to the Ayurveda, which is a very old Indian healing tradition.” _What the hell? You’re doing it again, Sera. Stop rambling, you massive nerd!_

I grabbed the oil from the side of the cart and tested the temperature on my hand. “I am going to put some warm lavender oil first to soothe the skin and soften the area to prepare for the stones.”

Running my oil-slicked hands all along the contours of his muscular back, I asked with a grunt. “Any questions or concerns before we start?”

“No. Sounds pretty straight-forward.” He said while adjusting himself a bit on the bed. “But, Sera. I find the whole historical aspect of this procedure fascinating. I’d love to hear more about it.”

I laughed, “Seriously?”

Tom lifted his head and turned to look at me, “What?”

“It’s just... I’ve done maybe about two hundred of these sessions since I’ve started here and you’re the only person who wasn’t relieved to just hear me stop talking and start the process already.” I chortled in disbelief.

He lay back down on the bed and with a small shrug replied, “Well, I can’t speak for anyone else. But I really did find all of that tremendously intriguing.”

I blew a piece of hair out of my face and replied tentatively. “In that case, there’s some great websites out there I can point you to that I used for research during my certification training.”

“That would be splendid,” Tom grinned then closed his eyes.

Laying out all of the stones one by one, Tom’s muscles twitched each time a new one was placed on his back. The process usually isn’t too time consuming, but for some reason I couldn’t stop the shaking in my hands. It was getting so bad; I was worried the stones would fall out of the tongs. Surprisingly though, each stone was gently placed in each of the proper areas without incident. With my task finished, I quietly cleaned up the room in preparation for the end of the appointment.

After the requisite amount of time, I wordlessly began removing the stones. Each of them cooled to just below body temperature; I was able to pick them up with my bare hands and place them back into the container. The initial contact my hand made with Tom’s skin caused him to jump slightly and I realized he had fallen asleep. He settled back down quickly, I guessed once he regained his bearings and oriented himself. I coated my hands with some warming oil and lightly massaged his back and legs again. Tom shivered lightly in reaction as I concluded the process with a nerve-stroke using just the tips of my fingers.

Covering him gently with the top sheet, I said in a hushed tone, “Alright, Tom, you are all set. You can try to sit up now. But again, make sure you do that very slowly.”

Tom stretched languidly and let out a huge yawn. He leisurely lifted himself before turning to sit up and swing his legs off the side of the bed. “I have to say, Sera. That was one hell of a massage. I feel so utterly relaxed. Fantastic, really. I can’t thank you enough. I’ve had such an exhaustingly physical few months; my muscles were aching for some tender love and care. I’m really happy I took the break from set and came by.”

He turned his neck from side to side and continued. “Actually, I was going to wait until filming was close to wrapped, but I was chatting it up with Ian Gibson on how taxed my body was lately and he mentioned this spa and your name.”

 _Ah._ Of course, it all made sense now. It was Ian that made the referral. I hadn’t made the connection before, but Ian was sort of a regular client of mine. And he was Guillermo Del Toro’s assistant, director on the movie Tom was filming here in Toronto, and that’s how Tom had gotten my name and the spa’s information. “Oh, Ian. Yes, he’s turned into a regular of mine. Well, whenever he’s in town. He’s such a sweetheart for referring me.”

“Well, everything he’s said. I mean, you completely exceeded my expectations. And Ian spoke very, very highly of you.” He beamed.

“Wow. I definitely appreciate that.” The blush on my cheeks began to turn scarlet under all of the praise. I looked down at my feet before continuing. “Umm… So, it’s been a pleasure, Tom, really. I hope you are feeling better and that you enjoy the rest of your stay… in Toronto,” I concluded with a shy expression.

“The pleasure was all mine, darling.” He grinned warmly, “Thanks again.”

With a smile of my own and a small wave, I walked out of the room. I closed the door, rested my back against it and let out a huge breath. I had actually survived. Somehow, I made it through without making a complete ass out of myself. My smile got even bigger at the thought of the accomplishment. Samson was going to be so proud of me. _Hell, I’m proud of me._ Finally pushing off the door, I walked toward the locker rooms with a light and airy step. All my worrying was for naught. Everything turned out just fine.

_________________

 

By the time I had finished straightening up the room, replacing the dirty linens, putting back my supplies and getting changed back into regular clothes, it was already close to 2 p.m. Normally, I would have just stayed in my scrubs and waited for the next client, but today was my day off. There was no way I would stay to take other clients today. Plus, I knew my manager, Monique, wouldn’t expect it of me anyway.

Walking out the door to the main reception area, I got lost in my iPhone and barely registered my name being called behind me.

“SERA! Sheesh! Where are you going, dollface?” Cordelia rushed around the counter to catch up to me. “I have your tip here from your 10 o’clock.”

I stopped abruptly in my tracks. “Oh my goodness, Cordy. I was totally absorbed in my phone. I’m so sorry,” I laughed, extending my hand to take the envelope from her.

“If I’d known better, I’d think you had a hot guy in there,” she teased.

“Ha! Don’t I wish?” I retorted. _And I know just the guy I’d love to shrink down and place in there._ The thought rushed into my brain unbidden.

“Thanks so much, Cord. I’m out of here. See you tomorrow?”

“Yup. Get out of here before Monique traps you for the rest of the day!” She said while making a shooing gesture with her hands.

I smiled back at her before turning around to exit. As I regarded the envelope with my full name scrawled on it in large delicate script, curiosity had gotten the best of me. It felt kind of heavy for just a tip to be inside. In hindsight, I probably should have left right then and waited until I had at least gotten outside to open it; but I’d remembered taking the bus that morning and waiting a moment longer seemed like an eternity at the time. _What’s in it?_

Ripping open the envelope, I removed and unfolded a letter with $300 tucked inside the folds. Shock and awe completely took over my face. As far as tips go, that was way over and beyond what I was accustomed to. _What on earth possessed Tom to leave a tip like that?_ I turned my attention to the writing on the paper in the hopes of getting my answer. I kept repeating in my head, “this must be some kind of mistake.”

> _Sera,_
> 
> _Thank you again for such a lovely experience this morning. I am completely grateful for your services, more so than you probably realise. It was brought to my attention that you were not scheduled for work today and I fear I’ve caused you much inconvenience on your down time. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I did not know this bit of information beforehand; else I would not have booked the appointment for today._
> 
> _However, I am eternally grateful you did choose to come in today and feel extremely lucky that you did. I’m a very satisfied customer to say the least. I hope this small gratuity is sufficient in exemplifying just how thankful and appreciative I am for your painstakingly thorough time and attention._
> 
> _Many Thanks._
> 
> _\- Tom x_

I blinked and stared down at the sheet of paper in complete shock for more than a beat. Turning the money over in my hands, I couldn’t seem to comprehend what was happening. Placing my gaze back on the note, I read it again and again. _How was this man even real?_ The thought left my head no sooner than I heard loud noises behind me. I quickly snapped my head around. The absurd sight approaching immediately cleared the hazy euphoria surrounding my mind.

“You BITCH!”

_Oh, great. Here we go…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Stupid real life.

“You bitch!” The tiny, blonde shark embodied in a woman’s form sneered lowly at me so as not to be heard by anyone around us. “That was MY client this morning.” She said while aggressively poking my chest.

I flinched backward to avoid additional contact with the raging she-beast. “Oh, really?” I folded my arms across my chest while rolling my eyes. “And how did you come to THAT conclusion, Jordan? Hmmm?”

The wench had the audacity to look offended. “Seriously? You are asking ME that?” the petite blonde replied with an incredulous look. “EVERYONE here knows that any and all VIPs coming through THIS spa are MINE.”

I let out a humorless cackle. She was in rare form today. Surely Jordan didn’t believe her own bullshit. _You know better than that. Of course she does._ “Oh, OK. Yeah. How did I forget to read that in the employee manual?” My voice oozed with blatant sarcasm as I turned to leave. I was not in the mood to deal with Jordan’s shit.

“You keep laughing, missy. You just wait. I won’t forget this. I’d watch my back if I were you.” Jordan taunted from behind me.

“Ooooooh. I’m super intimidated, Jordan. Good one,” I replied over my shoulder while shaking my hands in a mock terrified pose. I gave her a patronizing smile that screamed, “fuck you” and walked out the door. I wasn’t going to let that bitch bring me down after such an amazing day. I could practically feel the hot fury radiating off of her tiny frame against my back as I left, not that I cared.

In an attempt to put the ridiculous interaction behind me, I rummaged blindly in my pocket for my phone. Striding down the street to the bus stop, I sent a quick text to Samson.

_< < Heading home now to nap, shower, change. Let me know when you’re out of that hellhole >>_

Without waiting for a response, I tucked the phone back into my bag. _What a freaking crazy day._ I definitely did not anticipate the events unfolding the way they did after being so rudely awakened by my boss this morning and on my day off for that matter. I had gone from angry and annoyed to anxious and back too many times to count. My client started out as an anonymous VIP. Then after discovering his identity, I was consumed by my nerves. Surprisingly, all things considered, everything turned out really well. _I still can’t believe I massaged Tom Hiddleston and I’m still standing._ Since successful turnabouts were a rarity in my life, a hearty celebration was in order. Thank goodness Samson had agreed to hang out this evening. I absolutely deserved some R&R with my favorite buddy.

____________________________

 

My phone chirped on the bathroom vanity; I peered at the incoming text message.

Samson: _ << I have crawled out of the fiery depths of Hades. On my way to cooler temps with a view + delicious libations with my name on it. >> _

Samson must have been referring to our favorite rooftop lounge at the Thompson Hotel with the comfortable atmosphere and remarkable skyline view. It was Toronto’s “it-spot,” place-to-be, not to mention super swanky. Thanks to Samson’s cousin working in hotel management, we were privy to the exclusive venue, which wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. Unless we were staying at the hotel that is, or paid beaucoup bucks to be a lounge member. The exclusivity was the best part about the place. We could get dressed up, go out and have a blast without ever running into anyone we knew. It was our spot to let loose, have fun and take names. A Thompson night always made for a great story the next day and the prospect immediately made me giddy. Especially after the day I’d just had.

A few minutes later, I finished flat-ironing the final section of my hair. Turning in the mirror, I smoothed down my token little black dress that fit like a glove and had always made me feel fantastic. It hugged my curves in all the right places, and it featured a scandalous yet modest deep neckline that highlighted my favorite asset, the girls. I grabbed my phone and put on my heels. Another text notification chimed as I sprinted out the door.

Samson: < _< Ladycakes, I hope your fuck me heels are click-clacking their way here  >>_

Rolling my eyes, I responded.

_< < LOL. I didn’t wear those tonight. Or maybe I did? You offering? :P Hitting the pavement as we speak. Be there in 15. >>_

When my cab pulled up to the hotel, I honestly did not expect a crowd waiting outside. “What on earth is going on,” I wondered? I paid the cabby and tried to shimmy my way through the throng. After politely shoving and twisting myself around a whole mess of people, I made it to the front of the line. The man behind the velvet ropes I didn't recognize and was intimidating to say the least, at least 7 feet of tall, solid muscle with a silver nametag that simply read: Clyde. He gave me a cursory glance before booming robotically, “You a guest or member, miss?”

I blinked up with what I hoped was my best flirtatious smile, “Actually, I’m a personal friend of Max Garber. He’s expecting me here along with my friend, who happens to be his cousin.”

“Mmm. Max huh?” He gave a Cheshire cat-like grin. “How come I’ve never seen you around here before? Pretty little thing like you…” he crooned. His eyes roamed the length of me. “I’d remember,” he finished while slowly licking his lips.

“Well-“ I began but got cut off.

“Cupcake! Get your freaking bodacious boot-ay in here!” Samson boomed from the entrance, his arms flailing in the air to catch my attention.

Smiling politely at the bouncer, I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Seems, that’s my cue,” I said easily.

Clyde locked eyes with me and unhooked the velvet ropes for me to pass. “Get on in there, gorgeous. Before I find a reason to detain you out here.” Clyde said silkily. I squeezed his enormous bicep as I passed in thanks. I had to admit, the guy was very attractive. Even though he was completely not my type, it felt good to be desired and harmlessly flirt with him. As I walked away, I could feel Clyde’s eyes on me, which made my smile grow wide as I added an extra sway in my hips for his benefit.

“Look at you. Miss thang, bagging D’s left and right! Haven’t even gotten in the door yet!” Samson crowed as he swung his arm around me to walk toward the elevators.

“Oh please, Sams. I just had to lay it on thick so he'd let me in.”

The look that Samson gave me made it clear he wasn’t buying my shit. _Since when did he ever?_ We had an inside connection; I would have gotten in regardless and Samson knew it. Mercifully, he seemed to let me off the hook, for now. “Oh no, honey. That man was fiiine. And he was looking at you like a fat kid at a cupcake shop. Cup-cake.” He punctuated each syllable with a snap of his fingers.

I couldn’t contain the laughter that came billowing out of me. Slapping his arm playfully, I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to walk faster behind me.

“Come on, sassy Casanova. Let’s get our drank on!”

________________________

 

The top floor of the Thompson was strictly reserved for the rooftop lounge and outdoor terrace. The welcoming atmosphere of the lounge assaulted the senses immediately when entered. The lighting was always dimmed with lit candles dotting the tables and walls. Smooth, sleek lines made up the composition of the room as it embraced a modern feel. The black, silky wraparound bar was front and center with illuminated top-shelf alcohol decorating the back wall. Soft, plush couches and pillows lined the entire perimeter of the space. The indoor area was surrounded by floor to ceiling windows with various openings that carried outdoors to the patio, which was equipped with an infinity pool.

Normally, the frigid February temperatures would prevent anyone with an ounce of sanity from sitting outside. However, the strategically placed heaters in each seating area actually made it not only bearable, but also pleasantly comfy. Generally, Samson and I preferred sitting on the terrace on a clear night, as long as it was open, of course. The views of the Toronto landscape were unbeatable and the ambience allowed for the perfect amount of seclusion from our immediate surroundings. Especially since, whenever Samson and I were together, we were anything but quiet.

Still holding onto Samson’s hand, I veered us toward the main bar. So far, the place seemed pretty empty, but the night was still young. We ordered our drinks and made our way outside to a plush couch right underneath an oversized space heater. Samson plopped himself on the sofa, put his drink down and reached into his blazer jacket for his pack of cigarettes. He fumbled to get it lit before speaking. “So, lucky you. You got to blow out of that fucking dungeon. Before things got REALLY fun.”

“Oh, jeeze. That bad, eh?” I drawled while simultaneously taking a sip through the little straw in my mojito.

“Yeah. That bad. Not only did I have a manrilla to rub for a full hour session today,” Samson said while making a disgusted face followed by visibly cringing. Manrilla was the term we used for our extremely hairy, male clients. We’d liken them to being a cross between a man and a gorilla, hence the combined moniker. “But, she-beast got all up in my face on break.” He spat while blowing smoke exaggeratedly out of his mouth.

“What the fuck did she want with you?” I asked after rolling my eyes, still sipping my drink.

Samson raised an eyebrow and took a drag from his cigarette. “Don’t be coy with me, babycakes. You know EXACTLY what she wanted with me.” He gave a piercing look as if he could see right through to my soul. _Oh hell. I really screwed this up. Does Samson know who my client was already? He is going to kill me if he heard it from her and not me._

“Please, Sams. Jordan acts like she’s queen of Valhalla Spa or something. She needs to get a grip, get a brain and get a freaking clue. I’m sick of her shit.” I finished with another hefty pull from my straw.

“That may very well be, but at least one thing about that bitch is consistent, the fact that she is a bitch.” He punctuated each word with a point of his finger. “No surprises there.” He supplied with a flamboyant pursing of his lips. Samson had a point. We all knew very well what Jordan was all about. She never seemed concerned about hiding it, either. Well, except maybe for her ‘special’ clients. The sudden thought nauseated me a bit. “So, Jordan being Jordan, you know what she was all up in my grill about.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

I gestured for the waitress walking around to bring us another round and then turned back to Samson to respond, looking deeply and intently into his eyes. “Yes, the topic of conversation is clear. I guess I’m wondering exactly what was said.”

“Heh. Well, are you interested in the full version or the cliff notes?” He snorted.

“I…” My sentence got cut off as I became temporarily paralyzed. I stared, open-mouthed through the window toward the bar. Samson, alerted by my distraction, followed my gaze only to do a double take of his own.

“Whoa. Is… is that?” he stammered.

Slowly nodding my head after gaining my mobility back, I responded. “Yeah. That’s… Zach. Zach Levi.”

A low whine started in Samson’s chest and steadily garnered volume. If I didn’t stop this now, the entire lounge would be gawking in our direction after his banshee squeal went off like a shrill car alarm. “Sssssh, Sams. Keep it down!” I whispered loudly, slapping his leg lightly under the table to try and grab his attention. “Be cool. Don’t go all space-cadet, fanboy on me. You remember what happened last time!” I whisper-screamed.

Samson brought his fist to his mouth and bit his knuckle. He had a pained look on his face and was bouncing his knees up and down. As if on cue and sensing our dire need for more alcohol, our second round arrived. I picked my glass up immediately and took a strong sip.

“Hm. Wonder what he’s doing here?” I murmured into my cocktail. My drinking companion snapped his head in my direction and guffawed.

“Hold up. Zachary Fucking Levi just walked into our favorite bar and is currently 10 feet way ordering a drink, and you’re calmly asking philosophical questions about why he’s here?” He widened his eyes and fluttered his eyelashes dramatically.

I had to hold back my roar of laughter at Samson and his dramatics. Turning my head and peering back over to the bar, I gazed at the tall man leaning over the bar top, conversing with the bartender through the sheet of glass separating us. One of our most treasured pastimes for Samson and me when I first moved to Toronto was cuddling up on the couch on a cold night, under the covers watching Chuck on Netflix. We binge-watched the show like nobody’s business. It was such an entertaining series and Zach was so great in it. We would make bets on plotlines, whether a new person in an episode was good or bad, and of course constantly rooting for Chuck and Sara to get together. Absolutely some of my fondest memories from the initial move to Toronto were from those Couch Netflix Nights (CNNs) with Samson.

“You think he’s here alone?” Samson blurted out quickly.

The universe must have heard his question and felt compelled to answer. Just then, a tall, extremely slender brunette walked up to Zach, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him rather salaciously on the mouth. _Well, I guess that answers that_ , I thought to myself.

I heard a noise of disgust from the man sitting across from me and when I turned to look at him, his face was contorted in a massive scowl. Poor Samson always did have a thing for Zachary, even though he always rooted for his character on the show to hook up with the female lead. I reached out to touch Samson’s arm lovingly before uttering, “Hey, you never know. He could still dip in both ponds like you.”

He responded with a shrug. “It’s not that he’s with a woman, and a beautiful one at that. It’s that he’s attached period.” Samson let out with a sigh. “Oh well. His loss, honey,” he sassed dejectedly with a snap of his fingers.

Giggling out loud, I put my empty glass down and signaled to our waitress that we wanted another. Holding my head up with my hand on my chin, elbow resting on my knee, I couldn’t help but stare longingly over to the attractive couple at the bar. Zachary had been perched at the end of a barstool, his lady standing in between his long, outstretched legs. They had their arms wrapped around one another, faces inches apart, laughing and chatting away. Sharing intimate musings back and forth as if they were the only two people in the room. It had been such a long time since I had a serious relationship. Sure, there were dates and men here and there, and I normally didn’t lack or want for company. But something in the sight I was taking in caused a slight twinge in my chest that I hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“Earth to Sierra Leone!” A deep male voice snapped me out of my musings. “If you stare any harder, I think your eyeballs will shoot out of your head.” Samson jeered.

“I-I wasn’t staring,” I lied while reaching for the new drink the waitress brought over.

“Mmmhmm. Sure you weren’t,” Samson replied sarcastically. I avoided eye contact with him as I concentrated heavily on my libation. “As I was SAYING, while you were off in la la land,” he said while giving me a mock glare. “You never shared any details about your session today. Not even WHO the lucky stud was. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be super pissed at you right now.”

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, movement caught my eye to the left by the bar. I slowly turned my head and my expression transformed into a mixture of shock and horror as I observed the new group of people joining Zach and his mystery woman. Shrinking in my seat, I looked over at Samson who was sharing an equally elaborate expression on his face, except he looked like he was ready to jump out of his seat and pounce someone in excitement. Whereas, I was trying everything I possibly could to blend into the fabric of the couch and somehow become invisible.

 _Holy hell._ Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any more bizarre.

_Wow. Yeah. It just did._


End file.
